


Greater Than Us

by nandonman



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Hospital, DEEP SHIT, Dealing with mental health, Exploring Characters, M/M, Mike finding himself, Psychiatric Hospital AU, Strangers become friends, Washingroe, antics, based on real world experiences, but also ridiculous fluff and games, but still angsty at times, fun times in crazy people prison, mental health journeys, no prank au, not as dark as it seems, obv, ridiculously thought out characters lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nandonman/pseuds/nandonman
Summary: Mike Munroe is a man of many talents. He’s charming, intelligent, driven—but above all is his ability to disconnect. Mike hasn’t connected with himself in years. But when he’s sent to Blackwood Pines Psychiatric Hospital, he meets 7 people who, through their own stories, influence him to take a look at himself. Who is Mike Munroe? What’s he hiding? And how the hell will he get it out?-(Rape/non-con is briefly referenced and NOT in detail.)
Relationships: Mike Munroe & Everyone, Mike Munroe & Jessica Riley, Mike Munroe & Josh Washington, Mike Munroe/Josh Washington
Kudos: 14





	1. Author’s Note

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Mr.Kitty’s song by the same name.

Hey guys. Thanks so much for clicking on this fic! I just want to give a few warnings before you proceed. This story obviously includes a lot of sensitive content, and each chapter will have trigger warnings for the appropriate criteria in the chapter notes at the **beginning**. Please read these, as often the triggering content will be discussed in detail. I will state to what extent as well.

Some reoccurring triggers are **violent thoughts** & **dysphoria**.

Please take care and only read if you feel comfortable!

That being said, thank you for being here! I hope you enjoy this story. It’s been in my heart for a while.


	2. Into Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike gets checked in and meets a few faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for brief depiction of self harm at the beginning, along with mild dysphoria

_His head rang, a numb fuzz overtaking his vision and his thoughts, leaving the world far away. Had he finally done it? Had he managed to break out of his body? All that force, the bruises, the pain . . ._ **_slam!_ **

_His head hit the wall, but there was no clarity. The pain in his head wasn’t gone._

_Nothing was._

  
  


It was late afternoon when Mike arrived at Blackwood Pines Psychiatric Hospital. It was cold--as it had been for the past few months, partly cloudy, and smelt of fresh rain from the night before.

The police officer who accompanied him (to make sure he didn’t walk into traffic in the five blocks between the _hospital_ hospital and the asylum) stood with him at the desk as they waited for someone to check them in. He glanced around him.

There were chairs about--hospital chairs--the ones with the metal rods and the cushions made from the material of the tables doctors would have you sit on. There was a wall with water running down it, as if to say to all friends, parents, and police officers that _don’t worry! We are a very nice establishment--just look at our waterfall!_ He stared at it before taking a breath and sneaking a glance at the officer next to him.

For a moment, he wondered how hard it would be to take him down. Would the hospital have staff to come whisk him back? Would they put him in a straight jacket, or would he get away?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud sound as the doors to the waiting room were pushed open. In came a short, round woman with a perm. Her heels clacked as she reached the desk.

A deep voice spoke up from beside Mike. “Have a patient for you. Papers should already be transferred. His name’s Michael--Michael Munroe.”

He clenched his fists.

_I shouldn’t be here._

“Mhm. Just a second.”

He glanced at the gun resting in its hilt at the police man’s side.

_No. No way Mikey._

The lady picked up a phone and started speaking with someone. It was a short conversation. She hung up the phone, and in his last moments of freedom, Mike realized this wasn’t going to be a normal hospital stay. This wasn’t a broken arm or a checkup. He couldn’t just walk out when he wanted. He glanced outside, through the clear glass doors, and with a sinking feeling in his tightly wound chest, it hit him. He wouldn’t be home again--not for a while.

  
  
  
  
  


Before he knew what was happening, a nurse walked through the double doors and gave him a smile. He was tall, pale skinned, with a buzzcut and brown eyes. The weight in his chest grew heavier, and with each step in the process of getting him upstairs, a wad of anxiety formed behind his throat.

He shifted feet in the elevator, his mind fuzzy and blank. The whole experience was surreal. All he could do was watch as the nurse hit the button for level 2, and they descended in silence.

The doors opened to reveal an empty hallway, wooden floors and pale grey walls. Directly across from the elevator was another pair of double doors, with a small sign taped to it that read, _WARNING: HIGH CHANCE OF ELOPEMENT._

If Mike’s guess was right, he had a feeling he wasn’t nearly as scared as he should’ve been to meet the other crazies.

Thankfully, the nurse stepped out and walked past the sign, down the hall to the right. He followed.

The tall nurse hadn’t said anything since “Hey. This way please--” the _only_ thing he’d said. Apparently he didn’t plan on breaking the silence, instead pulling out his lanyard as they approached yet another pair of doors. Figures.

The doors opened with a click as the metal bar pushed in. The nurse held the door open for him. Mike made a point to avoid eye contact as he stepped past him, instead letting himself take in where they were.

To his left was a circular desk with three spaced out chairs. A short, skinny woman with blonde hair was the only one at the desk. To his right was a door to a screened in room. He could see someone’s silhouette against the glass--a woman, maybe? Further down, the room skinnied into another hallway. It was a small space, altogether. He hoped he wouldn’t be spending much time here.

“New patient. Is the bed ready yet?”

The woman looked up at the male nurse’s voice, a bored expression on her face. She glanced at Mike without any indication of what she might have been thinking--a stone cold look. He tried not to stare back, instead looking around the desk.

_What did she think of me? What would anyone think? Would they assume I’m like, suicidal or something? Schizophrenic? Horribly violent?_

Okay, the last one wasn’t fair. He’s never _killed_ anyone. And never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.

“Bed’s ready. Uh, are you sure he can room with Jess?”

The nurse looked uncomfortable. Mike felt the familiar dread take over him as the nurse’s eyes behind the desk scanned him over.

_Okay, fuck you._

“Yeah. He’s . . . biologically--”

Mike shut them out. He’d only spent a minute in the windowless room, but he hated it already. He hated them. Shit, what were the other patients like?

In his attempt to busy himself during the horrific conversation three feet away, something caught his eye at the edge of his vision. He craned his neck and stepped back to get a better look at the notecard hanging from the top of the nurses’ station.

Hanging from a string of tape was a cartoonish, silly looking drawing of a spider. Or--wait. He looked closer. The spider was actually a really skinny person on all fours with a silly face. It was . . . oddly disturbing for something drawn in purple marker. Who would leave that there anyway? Did the nurses know?

“--Hey. You with me, bud?”

He glanced back at the male nurse and blinked.

“Mike. My name’s Mike.”

“Right. Mike.” He paused, then added, “--I’m Connor. Your room’s this way.”

With that, he turned and continued walking, and Mike followed him, all the way to the skinny hallway full of doors.

Each door had a label holder next to it, with two slots filled with names on paper cards. Mike caught a glimpse of a “Emily D” on the left, and two names on the right: “Josh W.” with “Chris H.”

But then Connor stopped a few doors ahead of him, and Mike felt a small spark of pain seeing that he’d stopped in front of a door on the left.

“This will be your room. Your stuff should be brought in as soon as it’s checked. For now, everyone else is at group, so that’s where we’ll go.”

“Wait, I’m just . . . hopping in?”

“Mhm.”

The nurse took a step away from the door and pointed down the hall, back towards where we came from.

“They’re in one of the conference rooms. First door on the left.”

He looked back to where Connor’d motioned and saw a wooden door with a small glass window. Right. A conference room, in a mental hospital. That’s normal.

Regardless, Mike followed the finger and made his way to the door. He could feel a strange mix of fear, anxiety, and . . . Jesus H. Christ, was that excitement? _Get ahold of yourself, Munroe. You’re not at summer camp. This is a freaking mental hospital._

With a breath, he turned the handle and stepped inside, letting the--surprisingly heavy--door close behind him.

Conversation stopped. Then continued.

The room was relatively small, but it still felt bigger than the entrance, as it was empty save for a ring of chairs against two walls. And this room had windows.

In the middle of the ring, sitting back to the windows, was an older woman with shoulder length hair. She looked up at Mike before looking back at her papers and continuing her lecture--something about “progress on goals” and “grounding.” He looked around for a seat.

There weren’t many people--maybe six? Seven? Luckily, nobody was rocking profusely or screaming at him, so he felt comfortable taking a seat second to last on the right. The person on the left looked small, frail almost. She had blonde hair in two braids, sweatpants, and her legs were curled up into herself. She stared at the woman at the center of the room, only glancing at Mike from the corner of her eye. No wonder she was sitting in the corner.

To their right was a tall, athletic looking man with kind eyes. He looked at Mike as he sat down but said nothing, instead continuing to pick at the loose strings on the hospital chair. He seemed . . . reserved. Maybe Mike wouldn’t get his head torn off. Not yet.

“--So remember to keep your goals in mind throughout the day. You’re here for a reason. To be safe, yes, but also to learn.”

The older woman paused, turning to Mike.

“We’re just finishing up, but. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

He didn’t know what to say.

“Hi. Mike here. Crazy guy. Y’know.”

A pause. Nobody seemed interested in meeting him, so he put his hand down and had to stop himself from stealing the athletic guy’s string pulling spot.

“Nice to have you with us. Well. Group’s over, so if everyone could go back to your rooms until dinner--”

“I left something in the media room. I can get that first, right?”

The woman who spoke up had a clear voice, and she seemed confident, as if she wasn’t the least bit fazed that she was in a mental hospital. She had shoulder length hair, too--but silky black, with tan skin and sharp eyes.

The older woman sighed. “Only if a nurse accompanies you, Emily.”

“Right.” She wasted no time in strutting over to the door to stick her head out.

“Connor? Alexia? Who else is here . .. whatever. Can I get something from the media room--” she paused, “--please?”

Around the room, everyone started to rise, some quicker than others. Mike took a moment to look at them closer, hoping to gauge what environment he would be spending the next at-least-72-hours in.

They were all around his age, no older than twenty-something. The loud girl--Emily--managed to get a nurse’s attention and slipped outside, her confident aura waning from the room. But it was more than made up for in the two guys rising from their chairs.

“No way, Cochise. You win _every time_.”

“Psh, shut up, man. You’re a formidable opponent.”

“No, you kick my ass, then I leave the cards, then you convince me to play again, and you kick my ass. Rinse, repeat.”

The “Cochise” guy rolled his eyes and made a comment about “pussing out,” to which the other shrugged. “Nah, I’m just playing safe. That’s what we’re here for, or did you forget that?”

Mike tore his eyes away when the other guy met his eyes, and “Cochise” followed his gaze. They seemed . . . normal, almost.

He started to rise, but a voice interrupted him.

“Hey, uh, my folder’s under your chair.”

Mike stared at the athletic guy for a painfully awkward moment before stepping back. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

The guy leaned down and grabbed his green folder before standing and leaving the room.

Mike supposed he should do the same.

  
  
  
  


Mike’s room turned out to look more out of a summer camp than a “hospital.” There were two beds, each with a single sheet and blanket. Besides the beds, the only other furniture were two desks with chairs. They were allowed chairs?

Mike saw that the beds were bolted to the floor. He walked to the chair and pulled.

“Mother of--that’s ridiculously heavy.”

Of course, as soon as he started talking to himself, he heard the door behind him open again.

It was the blonde from earlier. She walked in slowly, looking tired and unfazed by his presence at first. Until she noticed who she saw.

“Um. Are you allowed to be in here?”

Mike rubbed his hands awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah. This is . . . Well--I’m your new roomie. It’s . . . complicated.”

Jess didn’t look disgusted or confused. In fact, she looked angrier than before. Did he do something?

“Oh. Right. I’m not surprised they put you here.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Shit. Do I look upset?” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. I’m just . . . They think I’m trouble rooming with the girls here, so. Anyway, I’m Jess.”

Her hands were deep in her pockets, and she straightened up, as if trying to make herself seem more dignified than her rant suggested.

Funny. It wasn’t like any of them had any dignity anymore. Not ending up here.

“Oh, uh. Mike.”

He nodded awkwardly, then swept his eyes over the room again.

“Cozy.”

Jess let loose a half smile. Mike wondered if anyone here had ever seen her really smile.

Instead of replying, Jess made her way over to her side of the room--farthest from the door. She must have a thing for corners.

Mike looked at the difference between Jess’s side and his. Hers had a big, comfy blanket in addition to the single one they were both provided, along with bottles of shampoo, conditioner, a hairbush, etc. She even had some books, and some pictures hanging up above her bed.

Mike looked back to the single brown bag on his own bed.

  
  


_Let’s get to it then, Mikey._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming soon!
> 
> (Oh also, Mike is trans in this fic)


End file.
